Cursed Celtic Cyborg
by Japas the bassist
Summary: She's a cursed Celtic gyspy. He's a widower who doesn't want to be reminded of his long departed wife. What happens when they meet? rated for language
1. The Celtic Gothic cyborg

C2a4: yea! Celtic/gothic girl!  
  
002: she really likes using different cultures....  
  
004: WOO HOO! I'M ONE OF DA MAIN CHARACTERS!  
  
0010-: *knocks 004 out with a PVC pipe*  
  
c2a4: read and review!  
  
~*~*~*~*~*  
  
I stared into the night sky and sighed.  
"It's been the same sky for the last thousand years. Only a few new stars have come and a few old stars have left," I mumbled.  
How can I have seen the night sky for a thousand years? Simple...well, not really, if I explain it thoroughly. So I won't...not yet, at least. I'll give you the just of it: I was cursed.  
Cursed to what? Be forever young? Yes. Be immortal except by blade? Yes. Sounds good, right? Well, it's not. Not when you saw all of the people you ever became friends with die, your home taken over by the Romans, and everything else you have ever loved die.  
I used to live in what's now Ireland. Now I live in Aberdeen, Washington. I've lived in every country, every state, and in close to every century. Except this is the first time I've lived in Washington State.  
The next morning, I would go to Miller Junior High on the bus, get pestered by the men, and then fall asleep in American History. Hello, I was in all of the wars, Mr. Dickson! Well, at least that's what I thought would happen.  
  
I was on the bus, ignoring the guys and listening to my CD player when I heard a crash. I looked out the window and saw a log truck that had fallen over sliding towards us. Everyone but me was screaming as the log truck came closer. I was too busy thinking that I was finally going to die. As usual, I was wrong.  
  
Sure, the truck hit, but most everyone survived. Only my two best friends were dead. Sure I had a broken back and I was hardly living, but I would heal...if they hadn't found me.  
  
When I became conscious again, I saw bright lights and felt someone prodding my shoulder.  
  
"Damn! I'm supposed to be dead!" I cried, knowing I was alive.  
  
"Most people would be happy to be living," a female voice said.  
  
"Hn."  
  
"I'm 003. You probably don't know your codename, but we need to get you out of here," the blonde said. "How old are you?"  
  
"I lost count in the sixteen hundreds," I muttered.  
  
"Very funny. Really, how old are you?" she asked while leading me out of the place. I had walked past a mirror to see that I was wearing a dark blue uniform that had four white buttons on the front, a black belt, and a long, white scarf.  
  
"Fifteen," I lied.  
  
"I can tell that you and Jet will get along," she said before handing me a bag. "I was able to find your old clothes. They have blood on them. Why?"  
  
"Bus crash," I said. "When will I get some decent shoes?"  
  
"Soon."  
  
Then something passed through my memory.  
  
"Françoise," I muttered.  
  
"How do you know my name?" she asked.  
  
"Oh...uh, you look like someone I used to know before she disappeared. Ballerina thing a long time ago."  
  
"Emily?"  
  
I looked up.  
  
"I thought so," she said. "I didn't know you've been a cyborg for this long."  
  
"So that's what I am. No, apparently I just got turned into one. I've been alive a long time, Françoise. Too long. I was hoping I could die in that crash. Can we get out of here please?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
"Ouch. Stupid boots," I grumbled a day later. "How can you wear high heels?"  
  
"I'm used to it."  
  
"Hn. Flat bottom shoes for me." I shook my soda as Jet came into the room.  
  
He mumbled something as he grabbed some coffee that Joe handed him.  
  
"Translation please?" I asked.  
  
"Translation from morning talk into normal speech: thanks Joe," Great Britain said while coming into the room.  
  
"Oh," I said as Chang placed a bowl of porridge in front of me.  
  
"You're too skinny!" Françoise said to me.  
  
"I usually only eat apples," I said before taking a bite of the porridge. "I have to admit, this is pretty good, but I prefer apples and Celtic food."  
  
"Celtic? You mean Irish and Scottish," Jet said.  
  
"No, Celtic. As in roasted pig, toasted chicken, mince pies, and sugar cakes," I said as Albert sat down at the table. He threw me an evil looking glare.  
  
'Okay, that's the third time since last night,' I thought. 'Hopefully I'll end up hating him.'  
  
Wrong...when will the gods take pity on me? Oh yeah, I'm cursed! Yeah, I'm definitely cursed. Françoise was buying me skirts.  
  
"Let's see...I know Jet will think you're pretty in this!" she said while holding up a dark blue skirt.  
  
"No," I mumbled. It had been a year since I joined the other cyborgs and I had found out that my powers were I was able to sense bombs and I could change to into anyone and my skin could change colors.  
  
"Hi, Emily," Jet said while kissing my cheek.  
  
"Hn." I was going out with him, but didn't feel a thing for him. The cyborg I liked didn't even consider me an ally. I walked over to the men's section and grabbed some pants, some shirts, and some boxers. "There, I got everything I need," I sighed while dumping everything into the cart.  
  
Everyone but Albert was staring at me.  
  
"What? I don't wear dresses and girly clothes," I said. Okay, so I was half Celtic, half Gothic. "And I certainly don't do girly things like shopping."  
  
That night, as I was about to go for a walk when Françoise said, "Ballet."  
  
"What?" I asked.  
  
"Ballet, you did ballet. That's girly," she said.  
  
"I was alive when ballet was invented, so of course, I had to try it out. I won't be back until morning."  
  
I left the ship and went into the woods.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
c2a4: does this count as angst? I don't really know....i never wrote one like this before.....  
  
004: why am I mean to you?  
  
C2a4: it'll be explained later, okay?  
  
004: okay. Review! 


	2. fights, running, and life saving

C2a4: eat, sleep, and r&r! ~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Why was I acting so strange? Easy. It was my two thousandth something birthday.  
"Sure, this is the first time someone made me actually want to live," I sighed as I looked up at the stars.  
I picked a flower and stared at it. Then I heard a crunch. I looked into the forest behind me and saw Albert. I went back to staring at the flower, knowing he wouldn't find me.  
Guess what? I was wrong! No surprises there!  
He came into the meadow and tripped over me.  
"Ouch...there go my ribs," I groaned.  
"Warn me next time!" he growled as I coughed a few times.  
"Like I knew you were here!" I coughed.  
"Pog mo thoin, Emile!" he growled while getting up.  
"How do you know Gaelic?" I demanded.  
"None of your business."  
"Go hifre unn leat!" I growled.  
"Right back at you!"  
He stomped off.  
Alright, I know all of you wanna know what we were saying. Albert told me to kiss his ass and I said to hell with you.  
A breeze picked up and blew through my short hair. The black short spikes of my blue hair were slightly swaying.  
"Stupid Albert. Always yelling at me when I do nothing," I mumbled as I stretched out again. There was a gunshot and a bullet landed next to my head. "Real nice, Albert, real nice!" I shouted.  
"You'll get a missile next time!" he shouted.  
"At least it'll kill me!" I shouted.  
Then, he ran back at me and we started fighting with our fists. When the fight was over, Albert was lying unconscious on the ground. "I may have a crush on you, but I'm still allowed to beat you up," I said as blood ran down my face. I watched as blood flowed from his mouth. I was sure I knocked out at least two teeth. I walked back to the Dolphin and climbed into my bunk bed. 'The Dolphin is a stupid name,' I thought before falling asleep.  
  
"WAKE UP!" Jet cried in the morning.  
  
I pulled the covers out my head.  
  
"Hey, why is your pillow covered with blood?"  
  
"Beat up Albert," I yawned. "Hand me my comb and hair gel."  
  
Jet handed me the comb and hair gel. I put the gel on the comb and ran it twice through my hair before sitting up.  
  
Jet pulled me down into his arms and hugged me.  
  
"Love you," he said.  
  
I said nothing.  
  
At breakfast, Albert was there. He glared at me the whole time through his two black eyes. Ha! I only had one black eye! I knew that learning how to fight on the streets of New York would come in use someday.  
  
"Albert, stop staring at me! You know I'm going out with Jet," I said so everyone could hear me.  
  
"ABLERT! STOP STARING AT HER!" Jet shouted.  
  
"I'M NOT! I'M GLARING AT HER!" Albert shouted.  
  
"WELL, THEN STOP GLARING AT HER!"  
  
I learned one thing that morning: Never get 004 boiling mad.  
  
"Ouch...remind me to never try to burn Albert's face with my jets again," Jet groaned.  
  
"You need anything?" I asked.  
  
"A kiss would be nice."  
  
"You know, I just heard the washer beep. I need to go put the clothes in the dryer now!"  
  
"Awe man, my nose hurts like heck," I groaned later that afternoon.  
  
Someone ran into me.  
  
"Sorry," I said while looking up. "Oh, crap!" I had ran into Albert's evil twin, 400. I turned and started running.  
  
I heard him chasing after me as I ran through some very dark alleys.  
  
"Ah!" I cried as I tripped over something twenty minutes later in a meadow.  
  
"Ouch! Watch where you're going, 0015!" Albert growled.  
  
I sensed a missile aimed right at him. I pushed him out of the way just as the missile was about to hit him, so instead of hit getting hit, I did.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
004: so, even though I hate her, she still saves my life?  
  
C2a4: yep...just keep your perverted brother away from her. Oh, um, 400 came from all the Japanese websites I go to. He's a very popular perverted character. He looks exactly like 004, except his eyes are usually blood red. REVIEW PLEASE! 


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